Anthem of the Angels
by contraband lollipop
Summary: The fight for Earth still rages on as Master-Chief follows the Covenant through the slipspace rupture. It has been a long battle that seems to be raging on with no end in sight. Two ODSTs learn more about themselves as they fight for the Moon base.
1. Prologue

The shit had hit the fan. That wasn't too hard to figure out right now. With plasma shots screaming by overhead, and grenades going off at the group, it was a miracle that anyone was left alive. If not for the speakers and microphone, Highlander wouldn't be able to hear or get any messages to her squad. "What ever happened to that back-up I asked for?!" She yelled into the microphone. She had been separated from her team in the sudden firefight and was stuck, without ammo and back up.

Things didn't look good for Highlander. While taking shelter behind was remained of a church wall, a Brute Chieftan's gravity hammer caused what was left of one of the church pillars to come crashing down on her leg. Damn, this was a pickle. Speaking of which…

"Pickle?! Where the hell are you?" No reply. He was probably dead. That meant the annoying jokes would stop, if she lived through this.

Above the noise of the gunfire, the shouts over the com, and her own breathing, a ghoulish sound could be heard. In the sky, coming straight down at the injured ODST, was a banshee. Well, looks like this was the end. Tensing up, expecting a hot shower of plasma to sentence her to a painful death, she was surprised to see the plasma shots land all around her. The pilot must have some serious crappy aim.

Instead of her, the plasma splashed all around the Covenant troops in the area. The banshee landed in the chaos, and out of the pilot's 'seat' came Pickle. Finally! Running over to his injured comrade, he was inhaling to make some snide and smart remark when he was stopped by Highlander's threat. "So help me, if you make any damsel-in-distress jokes, everyone is going to start calling you 'Uno'." Pickle just with his hands in a defensive position for a moment. Their were certain things he liked on his body that came in pairs, and he wanted it to stay that way.

The leftover pillar resting on Highlander's leg was too large to just pick up and toss a side. "Pull out your leg when I lift. It's too heavy to try again so we have one chance." As if having your leg broken hurt enough, now she was going to have to pull it out, which would was going to be bad. Feeling the pressure of the large sculpted rock relieved and a loud grunt of exertion from Pickle, she tugged on her leg with everything she had, and yelled out in pain, but it was free. That was all that mattered. The reaction in that kind of situation would be to splint it until they could get to a medic, but they didn't have time. Pickle grabbed the arm opposite to the leg break and helped her to the parked banshee. Time to get out of there. Setting her down on the pilot's spot, he laid down with only a sliver of free space, making most of his body weight sit on the smaller ODST. "Hope you don't mind me being on top sweetie." The energy pods on the side roared to life and sent the two into the sky, back to the temporary safety of the UNSC shelters.


	2. Chapter 1

0830 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 25 2551 (MILITARY CALENDAR)\ SOL SYSTEM, MALTA STATION, EARTH

Getting assigned to a new squad was a bitch. You had to learn all of their silly little inside jokes, get used to their fighting style, and find your niche. Anthony hated that part the most. ODST squads weren't all that rare so it was common to be transferred for no good reason. It wasn't hard to see that he wasn't too happy about this one. His last squad had been great. Standing at the door, Anthony didn't want to go in. He was afraid of what he would find.

Turning the handle, he was surprised to see the four others huddled around the table, dead quiet. Walking over, he saw three steak knives sitting on the table with cards. Each ODST grabbed a card and passed one down to the others with surprising speed. Suddenly out of nowhere, one with short brown hair and a stubbly beard grabbed a steak knife and quietly placed it in his lap. It took about half a second before the other three realized it. In a flurry of cards and hands, the other three fought for the last two knives. A smaller, younger looking one and the one he assumed to be the oldest had won. The one left out put his hands behind his head in frustration. "Son of a bitch." The others were smirking and laughing that he had lost. But for what?

Standing up from his seat, he stuck out a tanned hand. "Lance Corporal Richard 'India' Handler. " Maybe loosing the game meant he was going to have to get the rookie. "This is Corporal Connor 'Highlander' McCoy," he pointed to the short black hair boy. He didn't look old enough to be here. "Corporal Adam 'Hatch' Roberts." The one who had grabbed the first steak knife help his up and nodded it up and down. "Master Sergeant Spencer 'Wedge' Brixey. He's in charge so if you have any questions, bother him first." No one else stepped out to shake a hand or anything. 'Wow. Don't I feel special.' Waving to the others, he tried to introduce himself, but the others weren't really paying attention. " I'm Private First Class Anthony Hawthorne, but you guys can call me 'Pickle' if you want."

While he had been talking to pretty much himself, Connor had gathered in most of the cards and shuffled the deck for another round of the game they had been playing earlier. The rest of the group had taken their seats, and the three steak knives were returned to the middle of the table. Anthony decided to watch Connor play the game and see if he could pick out how to play. With the speed of any poker dealer, four cards were handed out to each player. With the deck at his left, Connor grabbed the top card and put it amongst the cards. A two sevens, a queen, a two and a freshly drawn five was the hand. Putting down the two at the left, Wedge picked it up and discarded one too.

The game was quiet and went by fast. Before long, Connor had four sevens in hand. Like a rattlesnake in defense, he snatched a knife, hoping to avoid anyone seeing the grab. Hatch caught sight of it and grabbed the second. Both India and Wedge moved in to grab the last one, but Wedge prevailed, but not without casualties. His middle and ring fingers had been sliced open by the blade. "Damn it Richard!" The cut wasn't as deep as it looked but any kind of injury on the fingers hurt a lot and typically bled a lot. As if expecting this—who didn't when it came to a violent game as this—Connor grabbed the wounded hand and put it on the table. Thankfully these guys were smart enough to bring a med kit.

Stitching up Spencer's injury made both Adam and Richard bored as hell, causing them to make conversation with the rookie. Heaven forbid.

"So, 'Pickle' was it? Do you know why you are here?" Adam leaned back in his chair, waiting for an answer.

"Um, I was assigned and no one really told me anything," said the confused Rookie. This didn't seem like the conversation was going to stay on a good subject.

"Last rookie we had was an idiot. Didn't listen well to orders," Adam smirked a bit almost as if he was trying to scare him.

"Yeah. Ended up getting smashed up by a hunter. Bloody mess." Richard made an explosion-like gesture with his hands. "We couldn't identify the poor kid by his face since there was nothing left but squished body parts. The only reason we knew it was him was because of the dog tags in his boots."

Oh God that sounded horrible. Anthony hadn't really been in a full out battle against a hunter and had only heard about what they could do. The only reason Anthony was here was because his parents pressured him to join. The ODST option had been mentioned in one of his classes, and he decided to go for it.

Finished up with the stitches, Connor put away the med kit and gathered the cards. This time they went back in the case, and then in his pocket. Turning around to face the Rookie, he seemed almost threatening. "So, what can you do?"

In a relaxed pose, leaning forward on a chair, Anthony smirked as he got to tell about his skills. "I am a good pilot and a great shot with a sniper. What can a little boy like you do?" That last part didn't sound so good. Connor was a Corporal, a rank higher than his. Technically he answered to him.

Leaning back in the chair, Connor and the others laughed. Was he really this much of a clueless idiot as they thought? Man this team was screwed.

"I could blow you up with nothing but the cleaners under your mother's kitchen sink. Oh, and by the way, I'm twenty-four and I am a girl."

What?! Anthony had a double take. No way in hell Connor was a chick! Chick's didn't have short hair like that or act like a man! Great. What a fantastic way to start out the day. While still laughing at him, the others exited the room, leaving Anthony alone with his bruised ego. Walking over to the window, he looked down at earth. 'This was a stupid idea, going off and joining the marines.' If only he had gone against his parent's advice and had just become a doctor or something. Anything would be better than this. Smacking his head against the window, he hoped that it would eventually crack and break, sending him out into the cold reaches of space to die.


	3. Chapter 2

**1530 HOURS, OCTOBER 23, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)\ SOL SYSTEM, UNSC **_**HEAVEN'S ON FIRE**_**, ON ORBIT AROUND EARTH**

"I hate the drop the most. It makes me want to throw up."

Words could not describe how many times Spencer would say that, and no matter how many times he said it, no one cared. That was the whole point of being an ODST. Their motto was 'Feet First Into Hell'. It came with the job.

"Would you give it a rest Wedge?" Connor was getting irritated. It was something the guys liked to do. They found that when she was irritated, she was much more efficient, thinking clearer and much more aggressive. No one had actually told her about it, and it was the guys' little dirty secret.

"Where the hell is India?" Anthony twirled his helmet around, attempting to keep himself occupied. As always, Richard was late. It was something that the group had to get used to. They had to wait for him before they were to be debriefed about their mission. No one actually knew what he did that made him so late.

Back in the empty locker room, one shower was running. Richard had a thing about showers and it was a ritual for him to get as clean as possible before dropping into Hell. Being super clean all the time wasn't something that he worried about all too often but no one knew how long it would be before he had another chance to shower. He meticulously scrubbed everything: his arms, fingers, legs, toes and even the unsightly parts. Yes. Everything had to be scrubbed. His mother would be proud of the job he did. Ooh yeah.

Stepping out of the stall, the fact that he was twenty minutes late didn't even faze him. He took his own sweet precious god-given time and he knew it would piss off the others. In all those years of being on that team, no one had ever said anything about it, so why worry? They could suck it up and deal with it. They were grown adults.

"Where's India?" Anthony was starting to get on everyone's nerves. It was probably the fifth time he had said that. Until then, no one had said anything about it. Now they were going to snap.

Hatch was the first, holding up his combat knife that was just recently sharpened. "So help me Rookie, if you say that one more time, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you."

"How about you just do it anyways?" Connor didn't sound like she was joking. Juggling four frag grenades, it was her own way of keeping occupied.

"Shut up guys. We don't need any fighting amongst this team. When we bicker—" Spencer started yet another speech to his team before getting his sentence finished by someone else.

"The Covenant wins. Yeah yeah, we know," Richard said while making his entrance. Finally. Almost instantly everyone was relieved, but at the same time, tensed. Now that the whole group was together, they would soon be dropping into the mess down in New Mombasa.

"Alright lady and gentlemen, our mission is to drop down into New Mombasa with the other Hell Jumpers and board the Covenant vessel that is sitting over the city." A map of the city was laid out on the holo pad before all five members as Spencer gave them their orders. There was only a single Covenant ship in the area, which was completely odd for them. The fleets that attacked Harvest and Reach were at least fifty times bigger than this. What were they thinking? Didn't matter. They were going to have to pay for their mistake.

"Get into the pods and prepare to drop." Spencer was always afraid for his team. He viewed all of them as his family and with family, you gave your life to save them.

Strapped into the crash chair, Anthony's whole body was shaking. It was the adrenaline. Sitting in that drop pod, knowing that the chances of being killed were near suicidal. So many things could go wrong. The drag chute wouldn't open properly, sending him to dig his own grave. The pod could end up hitting water and drowning him. Worst of all, he could die by the Covenant, without getting to open his hatch. That would be the worst part by far.

Now to wait. That was all Anthony could do before the fall. The first couple of times, he crossed himself, but after a while, it wasn't worth it. A pounding came from the side of his pod. It was Wedge. Every time before they dropped, he would bang the side of the pod to see if his team was ready. One knock signaled that they were ready. He slammed his fist hard against the steel surface, making the inside of his pod ring with vibrations. The tension was rising.

All five members sat in the pod waiting. What was taking so long? Normally they had about two minutes before they were dropped. They had been waiting for ten. Wedge's voice came on the team com. "Sorry guys but we have a change of plans."

A loud bang came from Connor's pod as she almost threw a fit. "Damn it all to Hell!"


	4. Chapter 3

**1730 HOURS, OCTOBER 23, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR)\ SOL SYSTEM, UNSC **_**HEAVEN'S ON FIRE**_**, ON ORBIT AROUND LUNA**

The initial thrill of the drop had been tainted by the fact that their drop to New Mombasa had been cancelled. Having a drop be scraped like that was a first for everyone on the team. Hatch blamed it on India's lateness. Now they wouldn't be dropping to Earth. They had to be somewhere else now. A lone covenant ship was at Earth's moon, terrorizing it's inhabitants. Along with a few other ODST teams, their new mission was to go neutralize the threats.

Changing into a suit that would allow them to move on the surface of the moon, they sat in the pods, waiting for the drop. None of them had any kind of experience landing on a moon like this. Their suits had been filled with around 90 minutes of air. Hopefully it would be enough if they ran into trouble.

The moon had changed significantly since mankind had perfected space travel and colonization. An OCS training center was stationed there, and a city had been established. Crisium City. It was under a dome that kept the air in. Scientists had been working on terraforming Luna, but due to it's lack of an atmosphere, the plans had been abandoned.

Sitting solo in the pod was killing Wedge from the inside out. The bay doors opened and soon it was silent as the vacuum of space sucked out all the contents of the room that wasn't bolted down in some manner. 'Any second now.' He kept telling himself that, gripping the sides waiting.

Highlander's pod dropped first. Then went India, Hatch and Pickle's. Wedge was last. The half-second of weightlessness made his heart jump into his throat. The sound of music came on the COM as they were propelled to the ground. The Helljumper's theme. Highlander was the one who played it every time. Then came words, but not from the music. She had found a Gaelic poem and had taken some time translating it into English. It had been written hundreds of years before, but it perfectly described their job.

"And my army of brothers went over the hilltops, drenched in blood we may be, but fighting is all left to me. Together with my army of brothers, down we fall, darkness in all, through Hell!"

There was no fire of re-entry since there was no atmosphere. With a sudden jerk, due to the metallic chute ripping away, the rockets turned on the slow the descent. It was at this point in the drop that of the malfunctions occurred. The moon's surface was getting closer. Normally they would never do a drop like this, but no long swords could be spared and the carriers had to stay in battle. Closing his eyes, Wedge prayed to be spared. A warning light lit up the pod's interior. One of the rockets had quit and his pod was tilting due to the unequal thrust.

Slamming into the ground, he wasn't dead, but his pod had landed at a steep vertical angle, causing the hatch to bury into the ground. It would be impossible to get out on his own. From what he could see, he was stuck near a Covenant outpost. Thankfully the window to see out was polarized, keeping his presence inside the capsule hidden from those outside.

"I am stuck and in the middle of a damn Covie party. Come get me out of here guys!" Everyone had heard it but no one responded quickly. Could it be that they had run into trouble?

"I'm coming to the rescue my princess!" Pickle's crackly voice came. Great. Just what Wedge needed.


	5. Chapter 4

2245 HOURS, OCTOBER 11, 2543 (MILITARY CALENDAR)\ DAMASCUS II SYSTEM, ROOPA PATEL BAR, GILGAMESH

Nothing like a good old-fashioned bar fling. Spencer couldn't wait to get to a bar. Whores weren't far behind when a bar was involved on Gilgamesh. The planet was well known for its brothels. Technically he wasn't supposed to be off the base right now, but everyone else was going, so why not.

Humans were loosing this war so why try any more. No matter how hard we pushed, the Covenant pushed back harder. Today had been a horrible day. Losses on humanity's side was appalling. Today, Spencer lost his best friend. What a way to celebrate a birthday, yeah?

Yeah.

Tonight seemed like it would be special. It was open pole night and the thought of strippers sounded good. Always.

Taking a seat at the bar near some of his battalion buddies, he ordered just a plain old beer. A man's drink. Everyone was mildly quiet, not rowdy like it was back home, though, nothing was normal when it came to Gilgamesh.

Taking a gulp of his drink, he eyed each girl as they came out. Without realizing it, one young lady came up from behind. She didn't say much, she just had his hands calmly on his back. They began to migrate slowly down.

'Wrong side to be doing that.' He didn't really care. Her hands were down his pants before he even thought to stop her. Before he could turn around, a sharp pain shot up his back. Ooh hoo!! It hurt like hell!

The fellow marines burst out laughing and paid up $50 to the stripper. "Hey Brixey! How does that wedgie feel!?" The guys laughed even harder. "Come on Weasel! We're only having a little bit of fun!"

"Weasel? Nah! Wedge!" The intense laughter didn't seem to stop as the boys now gave Spencer a new call sign.

Damn. It better not stick.


End file.
